


Periphery

by ETCetera1110



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Andalites, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETCetera1110/pseuds/ETCetera1110
Summary: Several shorts from Jahar's point of view as she experiences the war from the sidelines.  In "Yellow," Jahar greets her husband as he returns from the disaster on the Yeerk homeworld.





	Periphery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [any army spouse](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=any+army+spouse).



> Written to the sounds of various Coldplay songs.

Jahar stood among the others, anxiously waiting for the ship to complete its docking cycle.  She was alone – Alloran’s family and her own having respected her request to meet him like this.  Her family did not take issue with her request.  His family, however, had only begrudgingly agreed.  She didn’t blame them and had felt a pang of guilt even asking them to delay welcoming their son and brother home, but it couldn’t be helped.  Alloran was in no state to navigate the attention and concerns of his kin.  He had said as much in their most recent holocomm.  Once he was settled, she assured everyone, they would be welcome to visit at their scoop.

This would be no traditional homecoming.  The expedition had not gone like any of the others in recent history.  The ships bearing the research station’s staff had begun returning weeks ago, the people on board bearing witness to the tragedy that had taken place.  As first-hand accounts had begun to circulate around the civilian communication channels, speakers for the dead had been dispatched to deliver devastating news to the families of those warriors that were lost. 

Twenty-six.  Twenty-six families who had lost sons, brothers, fathers, uncles, cousins, friends.

As she looked around at the other families Jahar saw parents, children, and siblings, all gathered together in small quiet groups.  Instead of the normal atmosphere of celebration, every person on the ground seemed to feel the dark and disastrous changes that these scorch-marked ships represented.  The Yeerks had betrayed the Andalites and they were proving difficult to bring to heel.  There would be war.  The planet was in grim mourning.

Normally, the air would be bright-shining with the emotions of civilians welcoming their loved ones home.  Children would be practically dancing, barely able to contain their excitement at the thought of seeing the brave warriors of the Andalite military approaching from the ship’s berth.  Fathers would be standing proudly stoic; mothers, also proud, would nonetheless be pacing, tending to the rambunctious younglings and anxious to see their sons with their own eyes. 

Young wives, like her, and other Choosen girls should be, impatiently chatting with one another, all eyes on the debarkation ramps.  But like many of her compatriots, Jahar was instead nervous and apprehensive about her husband’s return.  Occasionally, she would exchange a strained smile with another female close to her same age.  The young woman smiled back single-heartedly, undoubtedly thinking along similar lines as Jahar had herself been thinking.  Jahar tried to put her worry aside - she determined that she would be elated when she saw Alloran, hale and whole.  It was just the waiting that was making it difficult.

The first of the warriors disembarked and the crowd as a whole began to stir, smoothing out the tension held overlong in shoulders and tails.  Jahar watched the warriors in the distance as they made their way to out-processing, but she could not see so well that she could pick out Alloran among the many.  A speaker had not come to their scoop.  She knew he was there, but until she saw him, she would have to wrestle with the unbearable fear that there had been a mistake.  That he was not, in fact, among the survivors.  

She wished that he had come home at the beginning, when most of those originally present during the uprising had fled the yeerk homeworld.  But then again, she was proud that he had been chosen to stay on.  It had been a long, lonely, and frightening 7 months.  Alloran's superior officers were impressed, though; a promotion would not be far off.  Jahar hoped that it was worth it, then immediately regretted the selfish thought. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she saw him emerge from the terminal.  He looked neither right nor left, but only straight ahead, his main eyes cast down so that he would not make direct eye contact with anyone.  Even his stalk eyes seemed to avoid the faces of others.  He was unmoored, walking without true purpose, and her hearts sank as she realized that he was not looking for her as he had done every homecoming since they’d had a chance meeting in the spaceport’s famous gardens.

On that fateful afternoon, had been waiting for her own father to return from one of the frequent exploratory missions that were conducted in a neighboring quadrant of the galaxy.  Hers was a family of environmental control engineers.  Her father was an air quality technician.  Nothing so glamorous as a scientist or even a warrior, but it did mean that he got to walk among the stars.  She had waited patiently with her mother and sister all morning, but as the scheduled time for her father's arrival neared, she had felt anxious and in need of a change of scenery.  Excusing herself with a promise to return quickly, Jahar had set out for the gardens.  

Once there, however, she found herself equally restless; browsing the plants, but not really looking at any of them. 

That’s when she had heard them: a group of young males, _arisths_ she had guessed from their exaggerated carriage, were laughing uproariously at one of their comrades.  Apparently, one of them had managed to sneak up on the unfortunate boy and hook a dainty flower crown over his left stalk and ear.  As the victim of the prank had torn the flowers off, he had released a shower of pollen from a _hephar_ flower and was violently sneezing.

While other, more serious, patrons of the gardens looked at the _arisths_ askance, Jahar, who had only come to the garden for a distraction, looked on with mild amusement.  That was when one of the boys caught her eye.  The young man stopped laughing at once, but continued to grin at her.  He was of an average height and and sturdy build, nothing remarkable at first glance save for the striking depth of the blue of his fur.  He had a pleasant face and a gleam of mischief in his eyes that was downright irresistible.  

Jahar, refusing to acknowledge the blush she felt rising, returned his smile and made an accusing handsign, indicating that she suspected him of besting the sneezing boy.  The words handsome and trouble crossed her thoughts simultaneously.  He made no motion to contradict her, but his smile deepened.  He was smiling still when the pollinated _aristh_ hit him a not-so-playful sideswipe in the chest. 

<Thought you would have a laugh at my expense, Alloran?> the offended boy asked, stiff legged and ears darkened with embarrassment. His tail was arched high as if prepared to strike the other boy a second time.

The _aristh_ that Jahar had been unabashedly staring at moments before stumbled back with a _whoof_ of released air, but he was steadied by one of his fellows before he fell.

Alloran’s assailant took a menacing step towards him.  Acting as if he did not notice, Alloran righted himself and made a graceful sign of conciliation.

 <You presented the opportunity and I could not resist.  It is no fault of mine that your inattention got the best of you.  You’ve suffered no lasting harm and paid me back fair for your trouble,> he smiled winningly.  The other _arisths_ came to Alloran’s defense.  Before long, the sneezing _aristh_ was laughing at himself and the good mood had been restored.  As the little group began to move off, plotting their next misadventure, Alloran hung back.

<I am sorry if we disturbed your visit, lady,> Alloran signed insincere regret, <but not so sorry that I would have been had I missed the opportunity to make your acquaintance…> he offered her his hand boldly.

<Jahar-Samilin-Amerii,> Jahar supplied, taking his proffered hand briefly with a small surprised huff.   _Such confidence_ , she thought, _what a rogue_.  It was the first of many times he would draw laughter from her.

Now, she mentally compared the Alloran in the garden to the one she was watching today.  He was only a hand’s worth of years older now, but he had aged much during this last deployment.  She watched him with a feeling of unease as he crossed paths with someone he knew, exchanged terse greetings, and then resumed ambling onward. 

In that interaction, she saw a different man than the happy, playful, newly-married warrior she had seen off.  Gone was his ready smile, his carefree laugh.  _It’s just the shock of it_ , she thought, _we’re all still reeling from it._   Her hearts called out silently for him to look up, see her, come back to her.  But her mind called for her to run, to flee the disappointment and difficulty she somehow knew she was about to face.  The end result left her standing rooted to the ground, unable to do more than watch him drift in her general direction.

With a firm shake, she banished both feelings and moved through the crowd.  _He is just lost in thought_ , she admonished herself.  This was certainly not a time for his usual irreverence even if he were so inclined.  When he saw her he would smile, rush to her, make some wildly inappropriate comment just between the two of them to make her laugh.  It may take some time for his usual jocularity to return, but it would be there just under the surface.  He would be there when she went to retrieve him.  He had to be.

<Alloran!> she called his name over the noise of the crowd.

At the sound of his name, Alloran’s head snapped up, main eyes finding her.  He dropped the satchel that he had been carrying and walked quickly towards her.  He did not smile as she had hoped, but when he reached her, there was no hesitation.  Despite being in public, he brushed her welcoming hands aside and instead seized her in his arms and crushed her upper torso to him, his face pressed against her shoulder.  Instinctively, she drew her arms around him as well. 

They stood, heart to heart for several breaths.  She felt near to bursting with love, gratitude, and a strange new feeling of wanting, _needing_ , to protect _him_.  She gently stroked his shoulders and the back of his neck, not caring who saw them.  They remained this way for an unseemly long time until she began to feel conspicuous.  Eventually, she was forced to extricate herself as it seemed that her husband had no intentions of ever letting her go. 

Would that they were home already, she thought ruefully.

When Alloran had finally been forced to make a space between them, he reached for Jahar’s hand.  He had still yet to speak.

<Alloran,> she ventured, <I am so pleased and deeply honored to welcome you home.>  She made the handsign for greeting a loved one.  Despite her resolve to remain decorous, she could barely resist the urge to take him back into the shelter of her arms.

< _Illara.._ > a pet name that meant “yellow,” was all he could muster.  Even his hands betrayed him and remained silent. 

Yellow.  It had been his favorite endearment for her since shortly after that first meeting.  For him, she was yellow like the pollen of the _hephar_ blossoms; yellow like the starshine of their home system viewed from afar; yellow like the color he claimed he saw when he closed his eyes and thought of her. 

He palmed her face and she looked up into eyes that held so much pain that it brought tears to her own eyes.

Gently tugging on her hand, he led her back to retrieve his cast off pack.  They walked close together, hand in hand, occasionally brushing against each other.  His stalk eyes remained riveted on her as he bent and caught the satchel’s strap, lifting it over his head to lay crosswise over his upper torso.  She, in turn, held him steady in her main eyes and used her stalk eyes to make sure the path ahead was clear.  Her smile was genuine: warm, but brittle.  She was being strong for him in that quiet, unobtrusive way females were taught to be.  It was an effort for her not to betray her conflicted emotions. 

They spoke little and said nothing of substance as they waited to board a surface skimmer that would take them back to their community's pavilion.  Although he seemed disinclined to discuss anything that had happened, he found a million ways to tell her how he felt: it was in the far-away stares, conversations cut short and awkwardly ended, the way in which he always seemed to be in constant physical contact with her, if not emotional contact. 

Alloran led them past several compartments until he found one that was less crowded than the others.  He took a space in front of one of the large viewports and Jahar stationed herself dutifully at his side.  As they waited for the skimmer to depart, Jahar did most of the talking.  She filled Alloran in on what each member of their family had been doing in his absence and what was going on in the community.  He paid her polite attention, but she could not help but notice how he constantly scanned the space.  When the skimmer powered up for departure, he visibly startled and looked angrily about, challenging the looks of other curious passengers.

<Would you like to move closer to the exit?> Jahar asked carefully.

<No,> Alloran replied sharply.  He turned his attention pointedly towards the view outside the window.  At a loss, Jahar simply continued to stand beside him, silently willing the skimmer to travel faster.  She knew that he had only snapped at her because he had felt threatened.  It was adrenaline, nothing more.  He would calm himself soon and everything would be fine.

<I apologize,> he said quietly.

<No need,> Jahar replied, just wanting to put the unpleasantness behind her.  

Alloran turned a stalk eye to her and his hand sought hers, <Yet, I still seek your pardon.  I should not have been short with you.>

<There is nothing to pardon.  I understand,> Jahar said as she gave him her hand.   _But did she? Truely?_

Jahar found herself watching him as he watched the scenery fly past, feeling his fingers trace secret routes along and between hers, their lowered tails occasionally twining.  They talked of Jahar's newest painting, Arbat's work, her sister's new baby.  Occasionally, the doors of the compartment would slide open for restless travelers passing through their section.  Each time, Alloran would tense, seem to grow frustrated, and then subside into brooding silence.  Twice they stopped at other pavilions enroute to their destination.  Alloran grew increasingly uncomfortable as their compartment became more crowded.  He responded by shutting it all out to the point that Jahar felt she was talking to a tree, and not even a guide tree at that.  That was fine, she thought as she pawed idly at the grass underhoof.  She was running out of things to say anyway.

At least Alloran's somber withdrawal gave her time to reflect on her own inner turmoil.  For while she was relieve that he had come home safe and was content just to have him next to her,  she wasn’t quite sure what to actually do with him.  What could she say to make any of this more bearable for him? What could she do to make this transition easier?  Should she make a fuss over him or continue to act as if nothing had changed?  Had she already done too much?  Too little?  There were so many things she was dying to know, but she knew she shouldn’t ask.  

It was exhausting having to tread so carefully around the ubiquitous subject of the Yeerks.  She was acutely conscious of the conversations going on around her, almost all of which concerned the recent events.  She found herself hoping that Alloran wasn't listening, then chiding herself for the thought.   _Yeerks are all anyone is talking about.  If he can't tolerate it..._ she refused to finish the thought.  He would learn to cope, she decided resolutely.

Alloran must have sensed her discomfort.  He shifted closer to her, offering her his arm to hold.  She took it, gratefully. 

<Are you well?> he asked her.

<Yes,> she replied, inclining her head to briefly rest against his shoulder, <simply tired.  It has been a rather long day, has it not?>

She still couldn’t decide if she should attempt to revive their conversation, so she settled for running her fingers through the fur of his forearm instead.  If she was going to be honest with herself, she was afraid that he would ask her what troubled her.  How could she possibly put her trepidation into words for him without wounding him? 

Jahar glanced up to see Alloran looking at her with his main eyes.  He offered her a wordless half-smile, stalks taking a quick survey of the compartment, before leaning down to nuzzle her temple.  She was too surprised and relieved at this sudden overt display of affection to think about how such behavior would be perceived.  Without checking to see if they were observed, she tilted her head back so that the sides of their faces brushed.  She revelled in the familiar scent of his warm, soft fur.  

One of her stalk eyes registered the cursory glance of a disapproving elderly female.  Embarrassed, she looked down and pretended to inspect her hands.  She peered back up at Alloran, wanting to laugh at how suddenly young and foolish she felt.  Alloran had seen the female, too, and he smiled conspiratorially at her as he rested his forehead against hers.  Their breath mingled in the space between their noses and she became acutely conscious of a rising tide of desire that she must quickly cool.  The old woman stamped a hoof.  Jahar felt her ears blush hot and she abruptly pulled back.

<Yes, Grandmother,> Alloran said to Jahar in private thought-speak, making the handsigns for mild annoyance, followed by amusement.

 _He really is home_ , Jahar thought giddily.  She relaxed muscles that she was not even aware that she had been tensing and huffed a soft laugh despite her best intentions to suppress it.  She made the handsign for shame, which he batted down immediately.  He really was incorrigible, but at least he was hers.  As long as Alloran was by her side, they would make it through this.

<Stop it.> she told him with ill-concealed mirth.

Just to spite the “Grandmother,” Alloran lightly traced his fingers over Jahar's brow before turning his attention back to the window.  The day was slipping towards dusk.  Jahar stared out the viewport as well, setting her imagination free.  Often she would make brief eye contact with Alloran, but as twilight succumbed to darkness and the skimmer's interior lighting dimmed, she noted that he looked at her less and less.

Eventually, Alloran's smile faded altogether and his face became inscrutable.  She felt a stab of panic as it occurred to her that he was leaving her again, this time for a far more distant place than the world outside the window.  She looked long at his reflection in the clear plas panel, watching him watch the ghosts that he saw there.  She pressed against him lengthwise, no longer caring if it offended the other passengers.  She would call him back to her, anchor him to the present.  She loved him so.  Surely, if she was patient and kind and understanding and _there,_ he would remain with her.  Surely he would not drift away never to return...

**Author's Note:**

> [10/1/16] Took a look back at this the other day and thought that it could use some fleshing out. I am not a writer, so I never know when to leave things alone...


End file.
